Alcyone and Ceyx
by rosesareyellow
Summary: Based on Mary Zimmerman's Metamorphoses: the origin of the Halcyon Days.


A 

Begun Jan. 14, 2006

Finished Jan. 15, 2006

lcyone and Ceyx

Today, the wind is roaring and dark clouds cover the sky. Not quite a storm yet, but certainly not the gods' happiest weather. It is on days like these that I reflect upon my current state, and dwell upon the happy and unhappy memories that brought me here.

My father is Aeolus, the god of the winds. He married my mother, Enarete, when they were both young and foolish. I am happy to report that they've had a decent marriage for the past few centuries, besides the fact that they say a total of two words to each other once every few decades.

As a little girl, I loved to sit on my father's lap and watch as he sent out the winds to wreck unfortunate ships. The waves would rock back and forth as the winds bellowed, my father's fluffy white beard tickling me as boards were ripped off and helpless men were flung mercilessly into the depths. Occasionally, I would ask, "Pater, do they all die?" And he would answer in his gentle rumble, surprisingly tender for such a stormy-faced god, "Not all, my dear, but most of them do."

"Why must you send their deaths to them?"

"Because Poseidon commands it to be so," he would answer, looking off into the distance. Poseidon is my father's boss, and somehow related to us on my mother's side. One of the few things I actually learned from these conversations was this: never work for family.

Over the years, I took more and more to the shores of Thessaly, eventually venturing up to Trachinia. And then one day, Eros must have managed to find me and sting my heart with one of his poison-tipped arrows, for there I saw _him_ whilst walking along shore one day. I sat on a rock in my simple white peplos, thinking of nothing in particular as the tide splashed my toes with each incoming wave. I hugged my knees to my chest, just watching my toes in the water. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a tiny blue crab scuttle along just out of the tide's reach. Being as fond of the amusing creatures as I am, I picked him up and walked with him a few steps down the beach, murmuring absurd nothings to him as he scrambled nimbly over my hands. I set the little crab down a few paces away from my rock, and as I stood up, I saw a man walking in my direction, looking at the sea.

He was of a classic build – a strong, muscled figure, but just enough to let on that he used his body. He was an average height – not too tall, and not too short – with cropped, curly brown hair that a breeze had decided to play with. He wore a flowing white shirt, black pants, and black boots – the mark of a sailor – and, streaming out behind him, a crimson cape. I figured even from my distance that he was handsome.

The man paused in his walk, and bent down to pick up what I supposed was a handful of rocks. He stood, and looked out to vast ocean once again. Then, swiftly, he took one of the rocks, and threw it into the sea. In rapid procession, he then hurled the other five rocks he held into the blue depths of the water. Once free of the stones, he crumbled, falling to his knees on the sandy shoreline, screaming something unintelligible. It was then that I approached him, fearing …something. I worried about something nameless for his sake.

I touched his shoulder when he didn't seem to hear my approach. Instinctively, he grabbed my wrist in a painfully tight grip, whipping his head around to see me as he revealed the knife tucked into his belt by bringing it around to glare at me. Realizing my femininity, he released me, apologizing profoundly as he rose.

"I'm so sorry, miss, I didn't mean to – I mean, I wasn't paying attention," he stumbled over his words.

"Well, that's obvious, otherwise you would've heard me approach, and not treated me like a homicidal maniac out to get you," I responded, still startled from his quick reaction. However, my words had the positive effect of making him laugh.

"Which I'm really sorry about," he said once again. I smiled what I hoped was an understanding smile. He sheathed the knife.

"It's alright, I know you were distracted." He gave me a quizzical look, and I answered, "I was watching you from down the beach. When you screamed, I got worried that you might do something rash, so I came over to see if there was anything I could do."

He paused, seeming confused that a perfect stranger should be worried about him. "Well, thank you, I guess," he said. "But I don't think there's much you can do for me."

"Really?" I asked quietly, like I knew there was something he just wasn't telling me. I was desperately hoping there was something I could do for him, just to spend a bit longer in his presence. I had been mistaken in thinking that he was handsome, because (not to be blasphemous or anything but) his looks rivaled those of Apollo himself. My goodness, if he wasn't gorgeous, I don't know how you're defining the term! His deep brown eyes captivated me; he had a strong nose, and perfectly carved lips: the bottom one slightly less full than the top. His cheekbones carved his face nicely, and his chin brought the artistry in its entirety together. But his eyes moved me, and held me most, telling me everything he'd been hiding from everyone else.

He looked distrusting, as internally a furious battle raged between his common sense and his gut feeling. I decided to quicken the process by gambling with a question about what I read in his eyes (which has been wrong with other people on more than one occasion). This killed two birds with one stone for me, because I was curious about his life, and I also wanted to talk to him more.

"Dear, did something happen in your family recently? Did you lose someone?"

"How did you know?" he said before he could stop himself.

"I read it in your eyes," I answered truthfully. Another pause followed this statement. The ocean beat rhythmically against the rocks and the shore.

Finally, he spoke. "I'm sorry, but are you from around here?" Of course, introductions! How could I forget that dreary process?

"No, I live on the island Aeolia," I told him, pointing out across the ocean. His gaze followed my direction, then he looked around the beach.

"How'd you get here?"

"I ran." (I did, for the record. I realized when I was about six that if I ran fast enough, I could run on top of the water. Plus it keeps me in shape.)

"You ran," he stated disbelievingly.

"Yes," I said, as if to say, "is that wrong?" before returning his favor of inquisition. "So, what about you? Are you from around here?"

"Yes, actually," he said, "I'm the king." Fuck. Kings are always so stuck up. Believe me, I'm related to way too many. I must've shown some of this attitude because he then said, "but I hope I'm not like the rest of the kings out there – all about them, and not about the kingdom or its subjects." I smiled. He smiled back.

"Do you, uh, want to go for a walk or something?" he asked.

"I'd like that," I said. And so we walked, up and down the entire length of that beach at least twice. He told me everything: his childhood with his brother Daedalion; Daedalion's war mongering and thirst for violence, and how this obsession had led to the death of his niece, Chione, who was only eight when she died. With the death of his daughter, Daedalion was overcome with grief, and after mourning for a year, he hurled himself off a nearby cliff, only to be transformed by Apollo into a hawk. (No wonder he screamed.) He also told me about a few weird occurrences since that fateful day, which I shall not repeat here, for fear of divine punishment.

I fell in love with him that day, and by nightfall we had returned to our original meeting place, promising to meet the next day at the same time. As I flew across the waters, sprinting in the cascading dark, I reflected on the odd detail that neither of us had told the other our name.

The next day, we met again. This time, I told him all about my life, growing up on Aeolia, and my long walks across the shores of Thessaly. At dusk, we parted once again, promising a second time to return the following afternoon. On that third day, we at last confirmed our identities to each other.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked after a short silence, as we sat on a rock, pondering the light reflecting off the waves that had landed on shore.

We looked at each other and I smiled. "I have an inkling. Would you care to introduce yourself?"

"Alrighty then," he stood, brushing sand off his pants. "I am King Ceyx, of Trachis, son of the Morning Star. My fair lady, it is my pleasure to be in your company." He held out his hand, bowing, and I took, rising gracefully as I was prone to doing.

"Good sir, the pleasure is entirely mine to behold," I answered, as he kissed my hand. "And in case I made the mistake of assuming that you were not a fool, allow me to introduce myself: Alcyone of Aeolia, Princess of the Winds." He smiled cheekily, and kissed my hand again. Then, before I knew what was happening, he was kissing me. After the initial shock, I warmed quickly to the sensation, and we spent most of the rest of the day kissing and talking in between.

Seven days after I had met Ceyx, he proposed marriage to me. Of course I accepted – I was madly in love with him by that point – and the following week, all the preparations had been made and we married amongst a joyous celebration, because Trachissians adore Dionysus's habits as much as satyrs and Maenads. Ceyx and I lived in delirious happiness for many years, in a marble palace amongst beautiful hills speckled with cypress. The location was beautiful: hills on three sides, and the ocean on the fourth. I loved my new home, and the man I shared it with. I could not imagine a better way to spend the rest of my life than beside Ceyx. He was everything I wasn't and more. He completed me, and I him. We matched each other, as if within that first week our souls had melded together. Our spats were few and far between, and then only about insignificant issues – and, of course, our sexual life flourished. However, after a time, Ceyx began to get restless. He went on business trips often enough, but nothing's farther than a week's journey away. He needed more than just Trachis.

One day, I began to hear rumors of my husband leaving for Delphi. This tale worried me, as you would well understand if you've ever been through that passage, so I sought out my husband, and found him staring out to the ocean from the open marble room in the west side of the palace. He stood there, his arms crossed, crimson cape breezing out behind him, just as when I first saw him, all those years ago on the beach.

"Tell me it's not true," I murmured. The gentle breeze tugged at my crimson peplos, the wrought-gold leaf circlet upon my head matched the one on top of his rich curls that reflected the blinding rays of the dying sun into my cheerless eyes.

His shoulders heaved a sigh as he turned to face me, "It's true."

I strode towards him, the red folds of fabric billowing out behind me in what I hoped was an intimidating effect. "Ceyx, you can't do this, you can't just leave me here!"

"My love, my darling, I must go," he pleaded with me. "I can't stay here forever! I've been held captive by my own heart and mind, crazy for you, but now I have to do this for me. There are some things I need answered – things concerning Daedalion's death, and Chione – and only in Delphi can they be answered."

"I know you know of the dangers in that voyage over sea, but do you realize them?" I asked, fisting my hands in his shirt, trying to make him see reason. One hand of his was on my waist, the other cupped my cheek, and stroked my face calmingly. "Do you think that because you are Aeolus's son-in-law you'll get some special treatment? I can guarantee you it won't happen. Poseidon's wrath is eternal, and the waters are dangerous enough without an angry god!"

"My light, I know," he said. "Please remember I'm not a total imbecile, and that I have been out to sea before. I spent more time out to sea than on land, before I met you."

"I know," I looked down, trying not to cry. I met his eyes again. "My heart, I have a bad premonition about this trek. If anything, just take me with you so that we may parish together, rather than forcing me to live my life without you – which seems to me a far worse fate than traveling to the next world with the one I love."

"I refuse to put you in such a danger, Alcyone. I'd take the longer route by land, but I miss the sea too much to pass up this chance, and my questions need answering quicker than the land can provide." He paused, waiting for me to look up. When I finally did, I had tears in my eyes.

"I just can't help but think that if you leave for this, I shall never see you again," I whispered. He held me close, hugging me and kissing me and telling me everything was going to be all right, and that I'd see him again in two month's time.

Ceyx would not be dissuaded, and so, in three weeks' time, he had put together a hard-working crew, and brilliant ship, and set sail for Delphi. I walked him to the docks that day, and tearfully kissed him goodbye. Then he boarded the ship, looking back to me as I ran into the water crying, "Ceyx! No! Don't leave me! Ceyx!" My handmaidens restrained me, and my husband sailed off into the distance, growing smaller with each passing second. And with each passing second, I felt the years weigh on me, ominous of things ill fated to come.

I don't remember much else from that day; I think I must have fainted, because I remember waking up in the palace. I remember too, watching the sun set, glazing the ocean gold, from the west room where Ceyx had told me of his plans. I stared, nearly unblinking, as Helios's golden orb sank beneath the horizon, and the night sky speckled itself with tiny silver stars. Around the fourteenth hour of the fourteenth night of my vigil, I think I dozed off, or maybe my tired mind began to hallucinate, but I recall a vision I had, one that scared me beyond anything I had yet experienced.

In it, I saw Ceyx standing valiantly at the prow of the ship. Fog had closed in around them, and the sailors rowed as steadily as they could, glancing apprehensively around them. The sails had been folded up tightly, and the fixed, slow beat of the drum sounded eerily muffled with the splashes of oars in the water. Lightning struck out of one of the clouds, and it began to rain lightly.

"Steady on, men," Ceyx voiced in an effort to calm the crew. Suddenly, as if appearing from a dream, seven men emerged from the fog on deck. These were no ordinary men: their faces looked down; their strong, bare chests were strewn with bits of fishing nets and seaweed; they wore sailor's pants, but they were entirely barefooted; their hair varied in color and texture, but it all looked as if they had surfaced recently from a long swim. In their hands, they all gripped a long, wide, curved blade, reflecting the silvery-white of the moonlight. Eeriest of yet was their skin: tinged with the gray, green, and blue of the ocean. These were Poseidon's henchmen.

"Ceyx!" cried an oarsman before one of the Earthshaker's men destroyed him. Ceyx turned around just in time to see his first mate run through. The seven warriors busied themselves with the destruction of the crew as Ceyx tried in vain to stop them. They were too quick for the human eye, too strong for a mortal arm. The ringleader approached my husband from the stern of the ship just as he fell, wounded lightly by the passing brush of a saber. The _ous_ continued to stalk my husband as he tried to scramble away. A valiant fight ensued: the _ous_ picked him up, glared at him, and threw him back down. Ceyx regained his feet, and charged the henchmen's leader. But no matter how many cuts he gave the _ous_ (which were few enough as it was), the little wounds healed in a matter of seconds, and barely seemed to phase the creature.

"Alcyone!" Ceyx cried as he fell once more on the deck, the crew dead around him. He kicked out fiercely, managing to stall the _ous_ and once again stood to fight. He had worn himself out in the battle, and now the _ous_ threw him down again, kicking him as he fell. "Alcyone," he whispered, praying for strength. Again Ceyx stood, fighting with every last bit of his power. Finally, as the last bit of strength fled his body, he fell, facing the Trachissian shore, and breathed, "Alcyone," just before the _ous_ knelt to break his neck. He fell forward, dead on the deck.

"Ceyx no!" I cried, starting awake in a cold sweat. I had fallen sideways on the couch facing the open side of the room. Along the dark horizon of the ocean crept a thick blanket of fog.

I tried calming myself but to no avail, and so, I crept quietly out of the palace and down to the shore upon which I had once walked with my beloved Ceyx. I sat down on the rock that marked the place of revelation and our first kiss, and watched the ocean, hoping to see any sign of Ceyx's ship, repeating over and over to myself that it was only a dream. It was only a dream.

"Oh, Ceyx," I whispered to the winds, "please come home." And without meaning to, I fell asleep upon that rock.

Now this next part is all hearsay, but according to the gossips of the town (who had sworn they'd heard it from Delphi), Hera felt sorry for me, lying on the beach, awaiting the return of my (apparently dead) husband, and sent Iris to command Hypnos to send Morpheus to me in a dream in the form of Ceyx. I don't know if that's really what happened, but I did dream of Ceyx: he met me as a strange man, covered in ocean brine and a black cloak. I asked him if he had news of my husband, Ceyx of Trachis, mistaking him for a common sailor. He removed the cloak, and I fled from him, horrified at what I saw. I stumbled and fell, weeping upon the ground. He felt his face, asking me if death had undone him so appallingly that I could not look upon the face I once cherished.

"Look at me, I pray you," he urged gently, then harsher, "Look at me!" I finally did so, turning my tearstained face up to his dream form. "Look at me," he whispered, "and know that I am dead." He vanished abruptly.

"Ceyx!" I awoke once again, crying out his name. It was still dark out, the stars shined with the moon, the waters glimmering in their light. Out on the waves, a little ways off, the tide carried a body to land – some unfortunate sailor.

I rose to look at it, saying quietly, "Oh, poor sailor, the ocean has claimed you – you must be leaving behind a loving wife and – " I stopped abruptly as the waves carried the body closer to where I stood in the water. The body was Ceyx.

I stood in shock for several long moments, then I began to weep. I wept and I trudged towards my husband's body in the waist-deep water, grabbing hold of him as best I could, and I began to run. I ran into the water, but with the weight of Ceyx's drowned body, I only waded. I waded until I began to sink – hoping to drown. Suddenly I noticed that I could no longer hold Ceyx – my arms had been transformed into long, white wings. My neck elongated, my legs shrank, and I grew a beak. I looked back to where I had left Ceyx's body, and found a handsome white kingfisher (a halcyon bird) like myself sitting quietly in the water. Together, we flew off into the night, finding a crevice on the side of a cliff in which to live.

Every year now, there is a seven-day period of calm waters on the oceans, during which I lay my eggs in a nest on the mild waves, and Ceyx and I watch over them. These days were named by my father – Keeper of the Winds, who forbade his charges to stir the water – and are known as the Halcyon Days.


End file.
